


olive juice

by dizzy



Series: we're all dying anyway 2019 daily fic advent [13]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21829078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: Prompt:richie and eddie’s first i love you
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: we're all dying anyway 2019 daily fic advent [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559167
Comments: 7
Kudos: 94





	olive juice

They spend the first night of Christmas break watching a copy of Die Hard they rented from Blockbuster, lazily sharing a blanket on Richie's bed. 

They always watch movies in Richie's room, because Richie's door locks. Privacy is nice when you're seventeen and you want to do things with your best friend that best friends don't usually do. 

Like lay back on the bed with them resting against your back. Like drape your arm over their shoulder and press your hand to their heart. Like nuzzle the side of their head when they reach up to cover your hand with theirs and grasp your fingers. 

They've seen this movie before. They saw it in the multiplex in town the summer before, in one of those last run screenings where it's a dollar off. They'd split popcorn and their fingers had touched in between the greasy kernels and Eddie remembers spending the whole fucking movie feeling like he was holding his breath even when he kept inhaling and exhaling just like normal. 

That'd been before. Before they started doing... the things they do now. Before the jokes bled into something real and the casual slow burning confirmation that whatever type of wrong they were, they were together in it. 

Eddie turns his face into Richie's riot of hair again and presses a little kiss there. He doesn't feel so strange doing that anymore, because he knows how much Richie likes it. 

Richie yawns into his hand and turns his cheek to press into Eddie's shoulder. "You have to go home tonight?" 

"No," Eddie says. 

His mom will be pissed, but she always is. Her health is worse now and she's got less energy to argue him with. He's in a strange place now where part of him is a scared little boy that wants to burst into tears when his mommy shouts her disappointment, and part of him is teetering on the edge of something almost adult and just feels exasperated and tired and full of teenage rebellion. 

Which makes since, he figures. 

Rebelling is just what teenagers do. 

"Good," Richie says. He stretches his long, long legs out on the bed. "Can we get under the blankets then?" 

That's usually code for wanting to fool around. Eddie's not opposed. He never really is. 

But Richie must be extra tired tonight because all he does is wrap his noodle arms around Eddie and pull him in close. 

Eddie doesn't mind. Maybe Richie will even fall asleep like this. Eddie likes that, sometimes; he likes the security of being held in this specific bed by this specific boy. It's like if Richie holds him long enough all that anger and upset buzzing constantly under the surface of Eddie's skin just soothes right away, if only for a little while. 

"Whatcha thinkin' bout?" Richie whispers. 

"Nothing," Eddie whispers back. 

It's deeper than it used to be. Puberty hip checked both of them firmly, molding Richie into something that's angular in a beautiful way (if you ask Eddie, anyway) and Eddie into... just himself, really, but a little taller with a deeper voice and a weird peach fuzz mustache he shaves every morning as he laments how stupid it is. 

( _All your Burt Reynolds dreams are dashed_ , Richie had said, laughing while he sat on the counter and watched Eddie scrape the blade over his skin.)

"Lies," Richie says. "My Eds is always thinking about something." 

That's a lie, Eddie thinks. Richie's got them confused. 

It's Richie that's always thinking. The words that come out of his mouth don't make sense half the time because his brain moves too fast to get them all out. 

"I'm thinking," Eddie says, and then he stops. 

He isn't thinking about bike rides down to the quarry or that time in third grade when Richie offered to walk home with him the first time or the first time they kissed. 

He's mostly thinking about how Richie's breath smells like the cheese puffs he was eating earlier and how that's a little gross. 

But what comes out of his mouth is, "I love you." 

"What?" Richie asks. He's grinning ear to ear. "I think I misheard you. I had to have misheard. My ears deceive me. What could it have really been? Hold on, let me use my Eddie ESP. Did you say olive juice? You probably said olive juice. Do you want olive juice? Because I can go juice the finest of olives, give me five minutes-" 

"I hate you," Eddie reports, grabbing Richie's arm to keep him from carrying the bit too far and actually leaving bed. 

Richie falls back in, half on Eddie. He smushes his face into Eddie's neck and mumbles, "Love you too." 

Eddie sinks his fingers into Richie's hair and smiles up at the ceiling. They were already something, and now they're a little something more. His stomach feels full of butterflies in the nice way. 

Life is weird but there are a lot of December days left to spend together and he thinks this is an awfully fine start to the holiday.

**Author's Note:**

> you know sarah is the best because she beta reads for me for a fandom she's not even in <3


End file.
